Be, Still, My Bleeding Hearts

This week in 2014, I considered showing you all a photo of a dead slug. However, in light of last week’s post about slug racing, I thought better of it. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to raise suspicions that I had actually killed it or, at the very least, been complicit in its untimely demise. I’m OK with losing a race to a slug these days. The reason is that, well, the photo didn’t turn out. Dead slugs are about as photogenic as sand-covered Tootsie Rolls.

So I’ll show you a photo of Bill instead. Bill is Sam and Sherry’s geriatric kitty. He is blind and his fur is matted beyond repair, but he’s such a sweetheart, despite that he appears to be giving me a raspberry…

He just woke up. He really does like me, honest!

Turning attention from Bill the kitty to my plant babies, I can see the rhubarb is about to explode…

I guess I’d better start making room in the freezer!

…and the bleeding hearts are going to give it another go this year after all. Last summer, Misty decided her favorite place to sleep was the bed of bleeding hearts and she unwittingly decimated both plants. We weren’t sure they would ever be back.

One awe-inspiring things about nature is its will to persevere, to reach always toward life. When things gets you down — or, if you’re like my bleeding hearts, a dog sleeps on you all summer and literally breaks you into pieces — think about how nature endures. Think about how the plants come back every spring, even when someone doubted they would, even when the danger of being challenged remains. If you live in harmony with your nature, you will emerge from your winters with renewed spirit, too. You will be ready to thrive!

And on that note, I leave you with this week’s shameless selfie:

Is it my imagination, or does Moose seem to be merely TOLERATING this?